


What May Come

by YesterDarling



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, M/M, modern alfred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesterDarling/pseuds/YesterDarling
Summary: When a land is in need of new rulers, fate chooses ones suited for the job and eachother. But Alfred is a foreigner, tossed into a role is said to be fated for, yet knows nothing about, and Arthur is a man of many layers, his nerves for what is to come making his shell harder to crack. Yet fate drives them together, sending them spiraling head-on towards whatever may be up ahead.





	1. Ink

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey, lovelies! I'm back from beyond the grave with a new name, as well as something fresh and new. This is inspired by a RP my friend AJ and I once had. My writing style has changed a lot, and I hope that shows in this piece.
> 
> In other news, here are the stories that will be continued, aside from this one: Verheddert, and... oh. That's kind of it. Ha.
> 
> I'm planning on discontinuing Novocaine until further notice due to my pure frustration I've developed working on it. I'm sorry; I might go back to it someday.
> 
> Lastly, I will be putting together a series of oneshots at some point, so jeep an eye out for that.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this!
> 
> -Yester Darling

_Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past._  
_-Jack London_

Some people, in this world, believe that our fates are guided by destiny. No matter how hard you try, you will always end up where you're supposed to be and you will do what you are supposed to do. Other people believe that our destinies are written by no one other than ourselves, and there is no precursor to genius, greatness, misfortune, or ill luck.

And, of course, as Alfred Jones listened to the speech of the valedictorian of his class, listening in on how everyone was destined for great things, the subtle expression on his face was enough to give anyone a hint of how he felt on the matter.

In Alfred's eyes, he saw himself as stuck. Stuck in the endless spiral down into where he was today; only barely graduating high school and being tossed into the unforgiving world of adulthood.

Many would wonder what it was that had brought themselves to this point, but he already knew. A mother that had left when he was young. A father that couldn't be there enough. A profound knowledge in science and math, and yet, he had sabotaged himself.

He tried to not think about how it was his own fault, though.

As the ceremony ended and all the other students discussed their plans for Senior Week, the nineteen-year-old passed them by without a second glance, only wanting to make it home so he could contemplate his future choices.

He tried to keep his focus on the road as he drove back home to his father's house, nearly zoning out at every red light. Stuck in routine, he parked the truck in front of the house, already beginning to strip himself of his graduation garb as he walked inside. It was far too hot to wear it.

He knew his dad left a graduation card on the table for him, but he ignored it, not in the mood to read it and instead going straight to his room.

It would have been a lie if one said that everything was working against Alfred. Aside from his best subjects, he had his looks working in his favor. Despite his dorky personality and almost-obsession with math and science, any girls at school had admired him, if only for his wheat blond hair and sky blue eyes, hidden behind thick glasses. His time on the baseball team never went unnoticed, either. And yet, as he shrugged off the white business shirt and pulled off his tank top, he noticed something he hadn't before.

Ink.

It was a dark blue in color, cascading across his left pectoral as if done by the greatest tattoo artist, all forming together into the shape of a spade; the shape he had seen so many times on playing cards. Unmistakibly, in the center of the shape, was the letter K.

He couldn't help but admire the handiwork for a moment before freaking out.

"Oh my God, I'm so stupid!" He berrated himself, face-palming. "When the heck did I get that? Shit. Fuck!" One to enjoy a good party every now and again, he tried to think back to the last one he had gone to, raking his mind to figure out how he had only noticed the tattoo today. What on earth did the "K" even mean? He hadn't the slightest idea. In a hurry now, he did his best to take off his khaki pants and change into jeans, all while looking for the nearest tattoo removal place on his phone. Tossing on a shirt without bothering to button ot up, he hurried to the door, barely grabbing his keys and slipping on sandals before running to his truck.

~*~♠~*~

Many have theorized on the existance of alternate worlds, similar to ours and yet completely different. In one such universe, there lies a small island in the center of a large lake, the lake being surrounded by lands so foreign to our own. And on the small island, at the top of the largest peak, there is a house that is inhabited by two strange men bearing starp horns and long tails.

They were an unlikely duo, the elder being one to dress in seemingly nothing but shades of black, the color only accenting the paleness of his skin and hair and the strange shades of red and blue that colored his eyes. The younger one was, indeed, very young; no older than twelve with a blond and child-like haircut. His color scheme was a bright and chipper red, with black accenting the color and adding depth. As he spoke, his voice still had boyish undertones, though it was clear that he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm telling you," he said in a light English accent, normally bright blue eyes with a shade of seriousness to them today. "I know that it's the right man. I already saw his mark, and in five minutes, he's going to try and get it removed! It won't work, but we still have to get him to the Spades. As soon as possible."

"We've been over this; he's not even from this world!" the elder Joker protested, his German accent harsh on his judging words. Clearly, their debate had been going on for a while. "There's never been an outsider in the court of any kingdom before, let alone anyone of a position such as this. I don't have anything to base this off of; imagine if he brought about the fall of them! Wouldn't that be un-awesome? Besides, I look over the Spades and Clubs. This isn't your call to make."

"Gilbert," he protested, trying to not sound like he was whining. "At least hear me out again! He's the best bet! The Queen could work without him, yeah, but that alternate looks hazy, at best. Tensions are already high between the Spades and Clubs. They need a King!"

Looking into the eyes of the Red Joker, he saw the concern, if not fear, in his eyes. Would the balance between the kingdoms be thrown off that much? He didn't know, but if anyone did, it would be the boy in fromt of him. It was true that the Queen would be able to rule alone with only the Jack, but if Peter was that adamant...

Heaving a sigh, the Black Joker snapped his fingers. The air next to him began to shift, seemingly unfolding until the two could see through to the neighboring dimention. Looking as though he was walking towards the Jokers was a man, looking over his shoulder as he tugged uncomfortably at his collar.

"For the sake of everyone, Peter," he said, "I hope that the future you see for the Spades doesn't worsen with this man."

~*~♠~*~

It had happened so quickly, he could barely believe it, if he wasn't now standing in a dimly-lit room, a man a few years older and a boy several years younger in front of him.

"So this is him?" The older, albino one asked, seemingly scrutinizing Alfred in a way that made him want to crawl out of his skin. "I guess he does look like a Spade..."

"A spade?" Alfred asked, not yet making the connection yet. "What the heck do you mean, I 'look like a spade'?"

Seemingly puzzled, the other replied, "It means that you look like someone from the Spades Kingdom... Right. Outsider. Nevermind." With that, he stopped talking.

Pondering for a moment, Alfred pulled down the partially-unbuttoned collar of his shirt, revealing the top of his newly-aquired tattoo. The indigo marking still swirled intrecately across his chest. "Hold up... Does that have anything to do with this?" He asked.

"It has everything to do with that, sir!" The boy clad in red said, by means of explanation. "You bear the mark of the King of Spades."

"King of Spades?"

"I'll take it from hear, kinder," the man said, speaking once again. Nodding, the boy stepped back. "Ja, he said King of Spades."

"Isn't that a playing card?" Alfred asked, more confused than before.

"Well... ja... but it's also a literal king! One who rules over the Southern Kingdom, the Kingdom of Spades."

"Riiight..." the American muttered, slowly backing up. It was a dream. It had to have just been some sort of dream. Praying he was near a door, he groped for a doorknob, but grabbed at nothing but air. "That's... Uh..."

"It's a big deal," the black-clad man continued, closing his eyes, "though it's a lot of stuff to fill you in on. Most of the Spades are scholars, though, which is awesome for you. They'll fill in the details I miss."

"I'm going to stop you there, man. Kingdoms? Marks? Spades? This is bullshit!" Alfred laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Why should I believe two guys with horns and tails wearing... whatever that is... who're telling me I'm meant to rule a kingdom that I've never even frikkin heard of? I'm fresh out of high school. Totally unqualefied. Plus, this is probably a dream, right?"

"A dream?" The young boy asked. "How could this be a dream?"

"Uh, because people don't just magically appear in weird houses?" He turned around, searching again for a door, but found none. "Look, this is... great and all, but..." He was cut off as the albino grabbed his arm.

"Hey, I'm skeptical about this, too," he admitted. "Yeah, I know that's uncool of me. But according to that mark on your chest and Peter over there, you're best to do it, ja? Come on."

Heaving a sigh, the blond suddenly found himself nodding. So what if it was a dream? Maybe if he went along with it, he would find himself in his bed, or perhaps wherever it was that he had slipped into unconciousness and begun this incredibly lucid dream. "Yeah, fine... But can someone just explain this all to me?"

"Yes!" The boy replied, cutting off the albino. "Um... Is it ok if I do it, Gilbert?" Recieving a nod from his elder, he continued. "There are four kingdoms, each named after a Suite. That mark means that you're to be king of the land of Spades. When the previou rulers pass on, marks like that appear on those who will be the next one. There two other people that work with you–the Queen and the Jack of spades–and an Ace to protect you. They've already been chosen. Got that?"

"Uh... Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Good!" Peter said, grinning.

Seemingly relieved, Gilbert stepped foward, putting his two cents into the conversation. "They'll question if you're truly the king," he explained. "If you tell them you were sent by us, that should clear up some confusion, but they'll still check to make sure the mark is real. They always have."

"And you said they already have a Jack, Queen, and Ace?"

"Yes. Get used to them; you'll work with them for a long while."

"The Queen's hard to get used to; he's closed-off," Peter stated. "But I think you'll get along with him. Any other questions?"

Something felt off to Alfred, and yet he couldn't put his finger on it, distracted by his own thoughts. Lost in thought, he shook his head. All of it was so strange and hard for him to process, yet he still was in the mindset that the sooner he got it all over with, the sooner it would all be over. "Uh... nah, I'll be good. Thanks for the crash course..."

"Then," Gilbert said as he snapped his fingers, the air unfolding and the passage opening, "You should get on your way." Nodding, the soon-to-be ruler hesitantly making his way towards the opening.  
All that he heard was, "You'd better not screw this up," from Gilbert as he made his way through, still trying to figure out what it was that felt so off to him.

~*~♠~*~

His landing could have been softer.  
Putting his hands out in an effort to stop himself, Alfred found himself breathing heavily and on his hands and knees, staring at a glossy tiled floor. Coming from in front of him, he heard sounds of shock as he slowly looked up.

There were three men in front of him, the one closest seeming both shocked and confused, yet still still standing his ground. His clothing seemed to be of an era that, to Alfred, was outdated, yet the pale blue waistcoat and navy overcoat suited him, and the obscurely small top-hat somehow didn't detract from the look. His face was angular, framed by messy ash-blond hair, but what stuck out the most to Alfred were his eyes. Beneath his obscurely thick and dark eyebrows was a pair of emerald eyes, greener than any forest.

"What the fuck is all this, then?!"  
The bitter words coated with a British accent quickly drew him back to reality.

"I... shit, sorry," Alfred muttered, standing to his feet.

"That's not an explanation. I'm waiting."

"Those two guys sent me here," he managed to get out, racking his brain for the right words. "Gilbert and Peter, I think."

"Why the hell would the Jokers send you here? Even they know that sending some bloke here for no reason is far from amusing."

"Something about me being the King of Spades... Well, no; it was that. They said I was the King of Spades." Remembering the mark, he quickly pulled down his collar to show part of thce spade, as if it would magically give him the credit he needed. "They... uh... said you would want to see this..." Awkwardly, he stood there as if exposed as the green-eyed man (as well as the other two), scrutinized him in a way that made his palms sweat.

The Brit's eyes widened slightly before he narrowed them again. "You're the King of Spades?" He asked, as though he thought the story was made up. As if he could make up something as far-fetched as that.

Fuled by the response of the other man, he replied haughtily, "Yeah, I am. Who the hell do you think you are, acting all high-and-mighty?"

Immediately, Alfred regret his question as the Brit's already perfect posture improved, the fact that he had been insulted apparent in his eyes.

"I," he said coldly, "am Arthur Kirkland. The Queen of Spades."


	2. Insight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, lovelies! I'm back. Sorry this second chapter took so long to write; I kept on not liking where it was going. I feel like this was a good decision, though; it kind of sets the stage for how things work in my story, and gets it out of the way for later. The next chapter should (hopefully) come out sooner than this one, now that I'm past this part.
> 
> In other news, I'll be making various Cardverse studies on my tumblr as I write and flesh things out, so check out yesterdarling on tumblr. Also, keep an eye out for some re-vamped stories this fall!
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this!
> 
> -Yester Darling

_Knowledge is one step closer to understanding._

_-Anonymous_

With scarcely another word from anyone else, Alfred found himself being whisked away by the other blonde man. Everything after had happened in a blur of uncomfortable scrutinization as officials with gloved hands pulled his shirt off, washing and scrubbing at the spade on his chest. He wasn't sure if it was relief or fear he felt when someone finally said, "It's him," and the investigation stopped.

He had barely gotten his shirt back when he was dragged (today seemed to be a lot of dragging) to another room.

"Just change your clothes," the man told him, "and then I'll show you to the library."

More dragging. Great.

He heaved a sigh as he closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he wished those two weird guys from earlier had given him more details. "They'll fill in the details I miss," Gilbert had said.

"Details, my ass..." Alfred muttered.

Figuring it made most sense to do what he was told to, he looked around the room he had been lead to. It was actually pretty spacious, the effect eccentuated by the high, ornamented ceiling. Two doors on the right wall–presumably for the bathroom and closet–further proved this point. Everything was either white, gold, or blue, the exceptions being the mahognany bed frame and the dressing table. An outfit had been laid out on the mattress, barely distinguishable against the navy comforter.

He couldn't help noticing how well the clothes fit when he put them on. Too well. Too fancy, for that matter, he had thought as he pulled a blueberry-colored overcoat over a baby blue vest. Just how many shades of blue could there be?

Straightening the jacket, he went to the door, hesitating before opening it.

"Okay, I'm ready," he said.

The other man just nodded before leading the way, making Alfred's thirst for conversation greater. He seemed quiet and somewhat shy, constantly pushing his glasses up, but there was unmistakable muscle to him.

"So..." he said, need to fill the silence finally winning. "Never really caught your name."

"It's Matthieu," he said in that quiet voice of his. "The Ace of Spades."

Another card title.

"Mattie; got it. I can call you Mattie, right?" A nod confirmed that it was alright. "Great. What is it that you do around here, Mattie?"

"I'm your Army Commander and Guard," he explained patiently. "Protecting the Royal House."

"That's neat," Alfred said cooly. Before he could ask another question, Matthieu stopped in his tracks, Alfred nearly slamming into him.

"Here we are," he said, opening one of the double-doors in front of them.

"Well, it's about time," he heard a familiar accented voice call out. Alfred looked out from behind Matthieu to see Arthur and the other man–the brunette with the ponytail–that had been there when he arrived, sitting at a table near the end of the room. Just fantastic. "Well, don't be a stranger; come along and have a seat."

Somewhat awkwardly, he walked with the guard, taking a seat between the two and glancing away. Because of situations before when he was told to have a seat, he silently hoped he hadn't done something wrong.

"Cream?"

The question jolted him from his thoughts. "What?"

"Do you take cream in your tea?" Arthur asked again. Though angry before, he seemed almost nice now. Civil, at least.

"Uh... yeah. I guess," Alfred said quickly, taking the cup as it was handed to him.

"So," the other man said (he had a different accent than both Arthur and Matthieu. Just how many did this land have?), "You said that the Jokers sent you."

"Yeah, they did," Alfred confirmed, taking the silence that followed as a sign to continue. "One minute, I was on the sidewalk, the next thing I know I was at their place or whatever, and now I'm here."

"Where are you from, then? You sound like you're from this area."

"I'm from America..."

"So you are from here, then!" He glanced over to Arthur, who looked absolutely befuddled. "But you act like you aren't."

"Because I'm not!" He insisted. "I'm from the U.S. Of A! Didn't you say this place was called 'Spades'?"

"The country is, yes. The county we're in is called America."

Alfred blinked. "This is too much..."

"Yao... could you give it a go?" Asked Arthur.

"Well..." the brunette–Yao–started, "maybe we should hear his story from the very beginning. As far back as you think is relevant, your highness."

After glancing around at their confused faces, he gave in.

"Look... I really don't know what happened, okay? I went home after graduation and was changing my clothes. Saw the tattoo-thingy. Drove my truck to a laser clinic. Found myself being shoved to here."

Silence followed.

"He's definately not from here," Arthur finally concluded. "I haven't the faintest idea what a truck or a laser is."

"I've been trying to tell you that! The first part, I mean." Alfred sighed some. It all seemed so strange, like some fever dream, but as it carried on he doubted he'd be waking up from it any time soon. "Look, guys, I don't know barely the first thing about any of this. Can you please just like... fill me in?"

The two Spadiens looked at each other.

"That... would be smart of us..." Yao admitted. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. If I'm stuck here and supposed to be king or whatever, I want to know anything." It wasn't a lie; for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to know more than just the basics.

"I suppose that a brief history would be the place to start." Arthur set his cup down, glancing away as though debating on where to begin. "The kingdoms themselves have only existed for roughly... three-hundred years. Before that, the land was broken into twelve areas... more like territories than anything else. It isn't exactly known why, but eventually the territories decided to band together into the kingdoms in the 1500s. Likely for trade and shared resources. France, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein became Diamonds, known for textiles and manufactured goods. Hearts, known for progressivism, is made up of Germany, Italy, and Japan. Clubs is made up of Russia, Hungary, and Austria, and the kingdom is known for being rural and shady..."

"And us?" Alfred asked after a moment.

"England, America, and China. We're known for our universities," Arthur said proudly.

So he was going to be king of University-Kingdom. Go figure. However, his mind was already on other subjects.

"You said that the Clubs Kingdom is shady, right?"

"Very ominous," Yao confirmed. "Rural and behind in technology, yet shrewd. They somehow always come out ahead, with no explanation why."

"There has to be a reason why."

"We haven't found one yet."

"Huh..." he muttered. The situation sounded familiar. "Okay. Enough about that. What about the roles? How did you get them? What did you guys do before this? What do you guys do now? Hell, what do I do?"

"Aiya, you ask a lot of questions..." Yao muttered."

"I can start..." Matthieu volunteered. "You already kind of know, eh? I'm the head guard of the castle and general of the army... I was in special operations training before this." Silence followed as he abruptly stopped talking. A man of few words, Alfred concluded.

"I'm the Jack of Spades," said Yao upon realizing the Ace had finished. "In charge of finance and foreign policy. I was finishing my business degree when I found the mark."

Arthur, naturally, went last. "As I've told you, I'm the Queen of Spades. That means I'm in charge of the Navy. Makes sense, seeing I was at the Naval Academy for strategy... You, of course, are the King of Spades. General of the Army. Between the four of us, we preside over the kingdom."

"Naturally," Alfred said, though he was still trying to wrap his head around the differences of what the titles meant in his world versus there. Rather than figureheads, they actually held power. They had specific jobs, and the positions weren't through family lines. He felt like Alice, although he was fairly sure that, at this point, he was not dreaming. And yet everything kept spiraling around him in a confusing haze.

"Was that of any help?" The Queen asked.

"Yeah, it was, thanks."

"Then I believe that we're done here." With a certain fluidity, he rose from his seat, the others following suit. "I'll see you at supper, then, Gentlemen."

They all begain to leave the room, the exception being Arthur, who simply walked over to the window. Hesitating for a moment, Alfred walked over to him, staring for a moment before clearing his thoat.

"Hey..."

"Hiya..."

A silence followed, along with Alfred's need to fill it.

"It seems like a nice kingdom."

"It is," Arthur agreed. "I hope that you'll like it here."

"I do, too." He chuckled slightly. "It's just really different, you know?"

More silence.

"I just... Wanted to say sorry for seeming ignorant or whatever earlier. I didn't really understand anything, but..."

"No, no, I should apologize," Arthur interupted. He paused, as though making sure Alfred was listening before continuing. "I shouldn't have just assumed you were being an indignant fool. You honestly didn't know who I was, so you had every right to question my authority."

"I guess that makes us both ignorant."

"I suppose it does," Arthur chuckled, looking down. "Let's try to start off on the right foot, shall we?"

"Sounds good to me, yeah."

"Then," he said, offering his hand to Alfred, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Arthur, the Queen of Spades."

"And I'm Alfred, the King." He shook his hand. "I can't wait to work with you."

-x-

"See? It all seems to be going well," Peter boasted, peering at the image of the library. Glad to shove the fact that he was correct into the other Joker's face, he dragged the taller man over.

"Ja, ja, I admit it," Gil said, rolling his eyes. "It does look pretty good right now."

"It looks like things will be okay in the future, too!"

"Still, don't count your chicks before they hatch, kinder. The future could still change. It could still change..."


End file.
